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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27806113">soulless, solace</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlwithacinderblockgarden/pseuds/girlwithacinderblockgarden'>girlwithacinderblockgarden</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>I haven't written in 5 years please go easy on me, M/M, nobody's dying so please relax, these are my babies and i love them</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:27:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,032</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27806113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlwithacinderblockgarden/pseuds/girlwithacinderblockgarden</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nico di Angelo &amp; Will Solace, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>soulless, solace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>An old therapy trick is to name the things you’re sure of. The things you know for certain. Nico di Angelo had been told over and over that this was supposed to help when you were panicked, something about grounding you. Things tended to be less black and white when you’d spent seventy-something years in a magical hotel that didn’t register with you, and even less sure when you found out the truth about your parentage. And then when you’re forced to reckon with the things you hate the most about yourself? He was of the opinion that the trick could go jump off a cliff.</p>
<p>But here he was, naming things he knew. He was named Nico di Angelo. His mother was Maria. His sister was Bianca. He was from Italy. He was wearing ripped jeans. His shirt was black. And the person standing in front of him was more helpful than any of that. </p>
<p>“Deep breaths, di Angelo. Deep breaths. Keep naming things for me, alright?”</p>
<p>He lived at Camp Half-Blood. His cabin was number 13. He had traveled the Athena Parthenos across the world. His father was Hades, ruler of the Underworld. His sword was made of Stygian iron. Mrs. O’Leary was his pet.</p>
<p>“Good job, keep going. What can you see? Can you tell me those things?”</p>
<p>He could see the white of the infirmary floor. He could see his shoes, white rubber tips and faded black canvas. He could see flip flops barely encasing feet. He could see the edges of a cart with wheels. He could see the orange of shirts, whispers of cool toned scrubs. </p>
<p>The problem was that he couldn’t have an ordinary panic attack. No, of course not. Nothing about him was orderly or followed the patterns one would expect. His anxiety manifested in shutting down, in an inability to do anything or focus on anything. While most of camp knew how to handle a typical panic attack and could walk through breathing patterns in their sleep, his attacks made him shut down. Which is why he was here, in the infirmary, breathing and naming things.</p>
<p>He could see tanned hands holding his. He could see worry running through eyes as he whispered. He could see sterile gloves. He could see… he could see…</p>
<p>“Hey, hey, don’t worry about this. Just tell me something you can feel.”</p>
<p>He felt scratchy sheets beneath him. He felt the air conditioning on his skin. He felt beads of sweat stopping and going cold. He felt warm hands surrounding his. He felt the pulse of the person holding his hands, steady and strong.</p>
<p>That pulse was important. Aside from the feeling of his soul, it was the most important indicator that Will Solace was alive and well. Nico was all too familiar with the feeling of souls leaving this earth and making passage to the Underworld, and nothing was scarier to him than Will’s soul slipping out of reach. He relied on that soul. It made his fractured one feel somewhat whole, and it seemed to make the darkness disappear. His soul was pure, untainted, and precisely the reason Nico was having a panic attack at that very moment. </p>
<p>Feeling a soul start to slip was alarming at best, even if he was used to the feeling. He ordinarily had no attachment to the the souls he felt leaving this world, but the cold rushing in and feeling of loss was still an adjustment. Nameless people, those souls were, but when he was able to identify the feeling of his friends’ souls, he held onto their warmth and security to help ease the feeling of others slipping away. And Will’s soul? Will’s soul was so like him. It seemed to radiate extra warmth and sunshine. Will’s soul was steady and patient, protective and bright.<br/>
But Will’s soul had slipped this morning. And when Nico felt it slip, he did the same. Will’s soul wasn’t supposed to slip, it wasn’t supposed to be tainted or lost or anything that wasn’t steady and warm and bright. Feeling Will slip was enough to send Nico over the edge. </p>
<p>He was in the arena when he felt it. He felt the light he carried with him dull, and his battle senses kicked in immediately. He could see everything clearly, people gathered to watch the sparring, those in the arena, people milling about the edges. He could see the arrows flying from the archery pitch, and he could see the campers notching up additional shots on their bows. </p>
<p>But most of all, he could see a blonde figure falling from the climbing wall, seeming to burn as it fell, and he could see that it was Will.</p>
<p>____________________________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Watching Will fall from a distance was like trying to breathe underwater. Impossible and terrifying. In the second it took to determine his soul was slipping, find him, and process what was happening, he felt himself fall to his knees. The only thought he could process was, “Not Will. Please, not Will.”</p>
<p>There were disadvantages to being small. Being moved easily was one of them. As he felt his world crumbling around him, he felt himself being shaken, and then being picked up. Someone, he wasn’t sure who, had grabbed him and started to hurtle toward the infirmary. </p>
<p>The infirmary. Yes, that was the right location. That was where Will should be, had to be, was scheduled to be. Will was supposed to be somewhere safe. </p>
<p>But yet, he wasn’t. Nico could feel the tenuous grip his soul had on the earth in that moment, and that was beyond reason. Will couldn’t burn out. If Will was to burn out, then Nico would… </p>
<p>Nico would.</p>
<p>That was that. There was no sense of self-preservation. No sense of going onward. If Will was to burn out, Nico would follow him, without question. With so little left in the world that was his, or that belonged to him, Will’s erasure from the earth would undoubtedly end him. Even the idea of being without Will was enough to bring him to his knees, and from there, he began to pray to his father, Will’s father, the Catholic God he was brought up to believe in… anyone who would listen, he prayed to for the preservation of Will’s soul.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>____________________________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was placed on a hospital gurney. He couldn’t figure out why; he didn’t matter when Will was slipping, but he couldn’t make himself move to search the infirmary. He felt frozen, and he knew a panic attack was steadily coursing through his system. He needed to find Will, but that task was impossible. Not when he could barely breathe, let alone move.</p>
<p>Nico knew he must look wild. There was a significant breadth being given to him, one that usually occurred when he radiated death. But of course he was radiating death; Will was slipping. There was nothing that could tie him to this life without knowing Will was alright. Which is where breathing kept escaping him. That is, till warm hands surrounded his and asked him to start naming things he knew. He was named Nico di Angelo. His mother was Maria. His sister was Bianca. He was from Italy. He was wearing ripped jeans. His shirt was black. And the person standing in front of him was more helpful than any of that. </p>
<p>“Deep breaths, di Angelo. Deep breaths. Keep naming things for me, alright?”</p>
<p>He lived at Camp Half-Blood. His cabin was number 13. He had traveled the Athena Parthenos across the world. His father was Hades, ruler of the Underworld. His sword was made of Stygian iron. Mrs. O’Leary was his pet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>____________________________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It took a moment for him to recognize the voice. It seemed to register about the same time he could breathe again. But the voice belonged to Will, and even though he couldn’t process through the situation, he was calming down because of it.</p>
<p>“Good job, keep going. What can you see? Can you tell me those things?”</p>
<p>He could see the white of the infirmary floor. He could see his shoes, white rubber tips and faded black canvas. He could see flip flops barely encasing feet. He could see the edges of a cart with wheels. He could see the orange of shirts, whispers of cool toned scrubs. He could see tanned hands holding his. He could see worry running through eyes as he whispered. He could see sterile gloves. He could see… he could see…</p>
<p>“Hey, hey, don’t worry about this. Just tell me something you can feel.”</p>
<p>He felt scratchy sheets beneath him. He felt the air conditioning on his skin. He felt beads of sweat stopping and going cold. He felt warm hands surrounding his. He felt the pulse of the person holding his hands, steady and strong.</p>
<p>Steady and strong. Will was steady and strong, and so was his soul. His soul that had slipped. Nico finally felt the strength to look up and into his eyes. That was not a mistake. Will’s eyes were shining bright, creased with tension and worry, but fully alive and present. Nico wasn’t sure how that was possible, but he was thanking every deity he could that they were looking straight at him from this earth.</p>
<p>Instinct was the only thing propelling Nico when he launched himself into Will’s arms, tears flying and the wind nearly being knocked out of him as they collided. Instinct led him to grasp at Will’s face, trying to rationalize that he was truly here and okay. His fingers traced patterns over Will’s face, trying to make sense of slick patches and hot spots. </p>
<p>“Shh, shh. Being a child of Apollo has its benefits when it comes to healing, I’m okay, I promise, I’m here, I’m with you, I’m alive.”</p>
<p>The pulse Nico had felt made a steady thrum through Will’s chest. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there counting his heartbeats, but it was the only thing helping him breathe. In, out. Thud, thud. His soul was bright and steady once more, any signs of slippage erased.</p>
<p>“I… I thought I’d lost you,” Nico murmured against offensively orange fabric. “I felt your soul slipping, and I saw you fall.”</p>
<p>Will’s fingers locked into his hair, and his lips found the crown of his head. The slight pressure was another reassurance, another moment of solace found in chaos.</p>
<p>“I did slip, I guess. But my healing abilities kicked in as self-preservation. Kayla and Austin said I was healing my burns as I fell, and I was okay once I hit the ground. They brought me here to check me over, but I’m fine, and I saw you. You needed me. You were exuding death again. And you were shut down… Gods, Nico. You scared me.”</p>
<p>His breathing started to even out. The thudding in Will’s chest was like a talisman to the present moment, and the lips on his head were bringing him closer to reality with each second. Wordlessly, he tipped his head back and rocked up to his toes, searching out Will’s lips with his own. </p>
<p>Will kissed with a warmth that flooded Nico down to his toes, soothing the anxiety, the tremors, and the darkness he’d been feeling for the past half hour. Nico’s hands scrabbled to hold Will tighter, to feel as though he could anchor his soul to the earth through his. And perhaps that was the greatest wish Nico had in this life— to anchor Will’s soul to his; to never find a moment where he would know this world without him again. </p>
<p>His name was Nico di Angelo. His mother was Maria. His sister was Bianca. He was from Italy. He was wearing ripped jeans. His shirt was black. He lived at Camp Half-Blood. His cabin was number 13. He had traveled the Athena Parthenos across the world. His father was Hades, ruler of the Underworld. His sword was made of Stygian iron. Mrs. O’Leary was his pet. And the person standing in front of him was more important than any of that. He was in love with Will Solace, and Will Solace loved him back.</p>
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